Fück My Face

When the other shoe drops, I'll be ready.
Alone and stranded, NOT, stranded, I refuse, what  
is left over, I will reuse. And when you do it, do it fast,  
get it off your chest and into mine. So fast it leaves me dizzy,  
but not stumbling. There will be no falter, only mere  
mental anguish. I will keep my back straight, I will keep my head  
high. I will leave without saying goodbye. The world is open  
to my interpretation, and I'm just another conquest.  
I'm wringing my ego by my neck,  
spluttering.  
Beneath this e-page I'm breathless, a hapless  
death wish, smart cars wreck less.  
A freckled, feckless, fucking mess.  
Sandbags are dropped from hot air balloons  
and me too terrible two's; I'm feeling heavy. Unrelentingly  
so, a mockery of love ballads, a lifeless bride,  
glued together with pestilence and paprika.  
Useless save for food poisoned kisses.